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Mario: And remember who you belong to…

The messages came in one after another before I could even comprehend how he knew where I was or what I was doing. Mario hated to be kept waiting and would expect a text back, but I didn’t even know how to respond to what I was reading.

My head snapped up from the screen to scan the area. Did Mario have someone watching me, or had he heard from Sergio that I would be fighting at the Skeletons’ clubhouse tonight? It didn’t look like anyone was sober enough to pay close attention to me. The only people whose attention I seemed to have were Gunner’s and Bimbo Barbie from earlier—along with her legion of hoes. I considered Gunner for a moment, wondering if he was the one reporting to Mario, but decided he didn’t feel like the type of man Mario could control. I would be willing to bet that the two would hate each other if they ever met. That was probably part of why Sergio had appointed me to run this whole partnership.

Mario: Muñeca.

Me: Of course, Mario.

Mario: Good answer, Muñeca. Now go home.

Mario didn’t ever want to hear your opinion. He just wanted to hear your agreement. I found it was easier to give the man what he wanted. Unfortunately, it looked like he still wanted me to play the part of his little doll.

“Ryan.” Gunner’s deep voice pulled me out of the mental trap Mario’s words had placed me in. His brows were furrowed when I looked up, and I had the strangest urge to take my thumb and smooth out the wrinkles.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft and filled with concern.

The man was so damn observant. This would be a great trait in any other instance, but I didn’t want Gunner to look at my emotions too closely.

“Yeah. Mario is checking in on things.”

Standing up, I plastered on a smile that probably looked like I was in pain instead of happy. Even if Mario hadn’t demanded it, it was probably time for me to go. And if Mario did have eyes and ears at the party, I would be getting text messages about Gunner standing too close or touching me. Even if it was only a few innocent brushes against my skin. My cheeks heated thinking about the few times tonight that Gunner and I hadn’t had such innocent touches. Without thinking, my fingertips touched where he had leaned forward and licked the blood off my lip.

My thighs clenched at the memory. And, of course, Gunner caught the movement. He raised an eyebrow at me, and a smirk emerged on his stupidly handsome face. The prick would assume I was thinking about him.

I was. But he didn’t need to know that.

His large hands wrapped around my upper arm as I went to move past him, halting me in my tracks.

“Where are you going, babe?”

“I’m going home, Gunner. It’s been fun, but I’m tired, and some of us still have shit to do this weekend instead of fucking off and getting drunk with club bunnies.”

He laughed at my response. I didn’t know why I decided to share my irritation at the thought of leaving Gunner for the weekend with Bimbo Barbie. It wasn’t like Gunner was mine to stake a claim on. I didn’t even know the man. Hell, I didn’t even think I liked him, yet the thought of him partying all weekend and probably having sex with club bunnies irked me.

“Naw, babe. You’re not going to drive yourself home. You’ve been drinking, and I won’t have this partnership end before it even begins. Come on.”

His hand slid from my upper bicep to my hand, interlinking our fingers while he pulled me past the groups of patched brothers still drinking and partying.

“Fine, I’ll let you take me home, but we’re going to stop by my car first so I can grab my shit.”

I thought about pulling away, especially since someone might be here to narc on me, but his calloused hand felt too good against mine. I decided to give myself this moment to enjoy it. The flimsy excuse that Gunner and I needed to get comfortable with one another since we were partners ran on a loop in my head.

You’re literally gaslighting yourself so you can touch this man.

After grabbing my shit, I let Gunner lead me to his ride. He walked me up to the most beautiful Indian Scout Bobber I had ever seen. Without realizing it, I walked over to the bike and ran my hand along its sexy matte black curves.

“Good fucking Lord, this bike will get a girl wet,” I mumbled.

A choking noise came from behind me. I said that louder than I had intended to. Gunner’s body was at my back a few moments later, and the urge to lean into him and let his heat envelop me was overwhelming. Hot breath caressed me, making my eyelids flutter. Thank Santa Muerte it was dark and no one was around. I realized he had a thing for whispering in my ear. And it made me feel like his words weren’t for everyone’s benefit—they were for me. Secrets he was trusting me with.

“Maybe my girl will get you off on your way home,” he purred.

It was my turn to choke on his words as tingles shot up my thighs. He wasn’t wrong. I’d felt like a goddamned live wire all night. The adrenaline dump of the fight combined with tonight’s interactions with Gunner had me horny and itching for relief. But I would be damned if I orgasmed on the back of Gunner’s bike. I barely knew the guy. Under normal circumstances, that was what I wanted in my hookups. But I was going to have to work with him, and how the fuck would I do that if every time I looked at him, I thought about me using his bike like a giant vibrator?

His body was hovering over me, with only centimeters between us. He thought I would be intimidated or back down, but he didn’t know me well. I turned to face him, not bothering to put any distance between us. My breast brushed his chest, causing his breath to hitch and my nipples to pebble.

Fuck, this might backfire.